One Bright Summer's Day
by SerenLyall
Summary: It is a bright and beautiful summer afternoon in Rivendell, yet something is dreadfully wrong.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Never will be. I can only play with them.

**Rating/Warnings:** K+. Rated K+ for mild peril and danger

**Time frame:** Arwen's probably about 24 or so. She's essentially a young teenager, so however that officially works out...

**A/N:** This is a two-part fic, the first chapter being the action/adventure and the second being more hurt/comfort. This was originally supposed to just be a oneshot, but I _have _to go to bed, and I only just managed to get to a good stopping place. Warning: I wrote this very quickly and so there _will_ be grammatical mistakes in here. I am terribly sorry for them, but seeing as how it's nearly 4:30am, and I have to be up in 2 hours I don't particularly care right now. (and my beta's long in bed. Which I should be too). I would love feedback, and please feel free to make note of any typos. I'd absolutely adore hearing your thoughts on this, even an anonymous "I liked it" or "I don't like it." I can only improve if I know what people think! Most importantly though, enjoy!

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**Dedication:** For Crookneck. While this won't make your life any better per se, I hope that this little ficlet at least manages to make you smile and feel loved. I'm terribly sorry that I didn't manage to get it finished tonight, and I know how you feel about two-shots...But I really wanted you to have something in your inbox this morning when you wake up. So I'm going ahead and posting the first half now. I hope you enjoy :)

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**One Bright Summer's Day**

Elrond knew instantly that something was wrong. He could not explain the feeling – he never could – but the sudden rolling, twisting worry that flared in his gut was strong enough to draw forth a gasp. His quill froze in his hand, the tip hovering an inch above the page, a droplet of ink trembling, and then falling to splash onto the page, blotting out the figures he had been in the midst of writing.

"Elrond, are you well?" Erestor asked, glancing up from the ledger that he had been copying Elrond's calculations into at the sound of his friend's gasp. When he caught sight of the look on Elrond's face, Erestor frowned worriedly – rarely had he seen such a look upon his lord's face, and when he had in the past, little good had followed. "Elrond?"

Elrond did not hear Erestor, a strange buzz filling his ears. Nor did he see his friend's anxious look for his vision darkened, a familiar sensation pulling at his thoughts.

The Valley was calling for him, the river crying out in fear. Yet it was not fear of approaching darkness or of evil that was brought by creatures of the Shadow that the Valley was afraid of, and it was not anger that filled the water's cries. It was something else – more of a warning or a sorrow, or perhaps the fear of a sorrow.

_Tumbling and rushing the water hurtled down the stream, parting around jagged fingers of rock before throwing itself over the edge of the waterfall to free fall nearly twenty feet to the deep pool below. Spray hung suspended in the air, catching the sunlight and forming a hundred miniature rainbows in a glorious display of beauty and light._

_A shrill scream shattered the illusion of peace. And then, "Stay there! I'm coming to get you. Hold on…just hold on…" The pleading voice was drowned out an instant later by the howl of the water as it valiantly fought to keep the fragile body pressed close to the jutting stone nearest to the sudden drop._

"_I'm coming…"_

Elrond was on his feet even before the darkness had faded, the quill falling forgotten from his hand to dash a long line of black across the page of carefully printed calculations. He did not notice; indeed, he likely could not even have seen it as he rounded the desk and sprinted for the library's door.

Erestor watched with concern as Elrond's eyes glazed over slightly and his gaze lost focus, the only indication that he was listening to the wind and the voice of his valley. Erestor unconsciously held his breath, as if afraid that he could distract his lord from his thoughts.

Elrond snapped back into focus, but before Erestor could question him over what he had seen, Elrond had already risen from his seat and was sprinting for the door, practically shattering the thin wood in his haste to pull it open. Erestor hastily shut the ledger and then ran after his friend, toppling his chair onto its side in his haste.

Elrond sprinted through the House, taking the stairs down to the ground level two at a time and then turning down a side corridor that passed by the kitchens and ended with a door leading out to the gardens.

The two ellyth who had just been entering the House, baskets of freshly harvested fruit on their hips, stopped in shock as their lord hurtled past them, just narrowly managing to avoid slamming into them full-on, but clipping the taller of the two's shoulder with his own. She staggered slightly, and then turned to watch as her lord threw open the door and disappeared outside.

She turned to her companion. "Ereboth, did you…" She was cut off as another dark-haired figure ran past, again just narrowly dodging them.

The second elf hesitated as he reached the door and turned back to the two ellyth in the hallway, confusion and no small degree of shock written across their faces.

"Lord Erestor," the shorter elleth – Ereboth – exclaimed, and it was evident that her confusion grew all the more at the revelation of who this second elf was. Erestor was well-known amongst the inhabitants of Imladris as the calmest and unlikely to find trouble out of the three lords of the valley, so to see him running pell-mell through the halls was a shocking sight indeed, even more so than seeing their lord do the same.

"Did Elrond come this way?" Erestor asked sharply, silencing the questions that were sure to come.

"Yes my lord," Ereboth answered. "He passed by us but a few seconds ago," she added. "What is-" But Erestor had already turned and vanished outside, leaving the ellyth even more confused and taken aback.

Erestor took a second to gather his bearings, blinking away the blindness that accompanied the sudden change from the shadowy indoors to the brilliantly lit mid-afternoon sunlight. He glanced around, searching for Elrond.

It only took him a second to catch sight of his friend, but it was nearly a second too long. Elrond slipped into the trees and was almost instantly lost to sight among the shadows. Erestor frowned, trying to think of where his lord could possibly be going. He took up his pursuit nonetheless, his eyes fixed upon the place that he had seen Elrond disappear. He only hoped that he would be able to follow the half-elf even through the trees.

Elrond nimbly darted through the trees, ducking low-hanging branches and leaping over fallen and rotting logs and small stones. Taking the path would have been much smoother and easier, yet it would have taken nearly twice as long as it twisted and doubled back on itself. And time was something that Elrond knew that he did not have.

He pushed himself harder, his pounding heart keeping time with the thudding of his heart. Fear filled his throat, constricting his breathing, and he pushed it away relentlessly. He could allow nothing to slow him down, and especially not fear, which he knew would quickly give way to panic.

Erestor cursed under his breath as he followed Elrond, the flowing outer robe that his station dictated he wear tangling in a small, flowering shrub. Erestor abandoned the cloth almost instantly, pulling his arms free and allowing the bush to have its prize without contest. The thick trees that filled the outer parts of the garden barred any sight of his friend but a few glimpses of moving shadow, and even a second's pause on his part could mean that he would lose all sight of Elrond. It was already difficult enough to keep up with Elrond, half-elf though he was, his Sindar blood making him far more at home amongst the trees than Erestor would ever be.

Erestor burst from the trees and slid to an abrupt halt. He was at the top of a small hill that sloped away gently to the very edge of a wide, deep pool, thick grass carpeting the descent. The dull roar of a waterfall pounded through the air, and the water in the pool was shifting and eddying slightly from the force of the waves crashing into it. A faint mist hung in the air, causing the entire glade to sparkle as if the very air itself was encrusted in diamonds.

A panicked scream reached Erestor's ears, and he looked up to the top of the waterfall. Standing there, back-dropped by the cliffs rising beyond was an unmistakable figure, long black hair hanging wetly over shoulders so very similar to his father's.

And then the meaning of the scream reached Erestor's mind, and his blood ran cold.

"_Arwen."_

Elrond too had hesitated as he had come to the top of the hill, and had glanced up the cliff toward the mouth of the waterfall. There, standing out starkly against the pale gray of the stone and the clear blue of the water, clung a small shadow.

The waters seemed to be parting more gently around the small shape, even the waterfall itself flowing less forcefully than was its wont. Yet the laws of nature could not be denied, and as Elrond looked up, his gaze latching onto the clinging figure, he watched in sick horror as the figure slipped away from the stone and plummeted over the edge of the waterfall.

Elrond acted without thought, plunging down the hill toward the water and diving head-first into the pool.

The water closed in around his head, embracing him and pulling him down. He swam for the far end of the pool, his instincts and long-forgotten habits taking control of his body as he fought the current pushing him back toward the shore.

Elrond neared the far end of the pool and kicked to the top, his head breaking the surface for just an instant. Drawing in a deep breath, he twisted his body and dove back beneath the water and kicked down toward the bottom.

The sound of water as it crashed into the pool pounded all around him, dulling his senses and causing his head to ache dully. He pushed himself down farther, ignoring the increasing pressure behind his ears and the stinging in his eyes.

He needed to get closer; he would need to dive beneath the waterfall itself if he was to hope to find his daughter. She would likely be pinned to the bottom, held down by the crashing waves, unable to break free of the crushing current.

Elrond dove deeper, angling his descent toward the violently seething water. Almost instantly, he began to feel a new current tugging at his body, drawing him in rather than pushing him away. This time Elrond did not fight the current, allowing it to pull him deeper and closer.

And then he was beneath the waterfall itself, and he could feel the thousands of stones' worth of weight crashing down over him. He was shoved relentlessly downwards, and then slammed painfully against the pebbled bottom.

Elrond opened his eyes and looked around, searching. It was nearly impossible to see more than a single pace away, the foaming water that mixed with disturbed pebbles and sand making visibility agonizingly poor.

Elrond grit his teeth and pushed himself off of the pool floor, then swam deeper beneath the falls. He fought the water with each stroke, and more than once he was slammed down against the sand. It took more effort each time to be able to force himself onward.

His chest was tightening with the need for air. How long had he already been underwater? Half a minute? A full minute? He was not sure. But he did know that his time was running out.

He was slammed back against the ground yet again, his head cracking against an embedded stone. Elrond clenched his teeth together, fighting away the pain, and then forced his eyes open once more. He looked around, desperation now beginning to taint his fear.

He would find her, he had no other choice. Elrond knew that he would stay beneath the waves until he did, or until the others would have two bodies to recover, not one.

He saw something then – a shadow; a blurred form that stood out against the white of the froth and the yellow of the sand and grit. Elrond pushed himself toward it, an unspoken prayer whispering in his heart.

Long, dark hair floated in the water, forming a halo around a pale, pointed face. Her eyes were closed and she shifted slightly as the waves pushed and pulled at her limp body, her dress swirling around her legs.

Elrond reached for Arwen, pulling her to him and cradling him against his chest, holding her tightly. She did not fight him, did not even move in the slightest as he touched her, but rather hung limp in his arms. Elrond pushed away the fears at what such a thing could mean, and instead focused solely on getting to the surface before he too lost consciousness.

Elrond pushed off of the bottom, fighting his way toward the edge of the waterfall. The waves pounded, shoving and pulling him down, throwing him back to the ground. He twisted, landing on his side rather than on his stomach, just managing to keep from crushing Arwen, who he still held securely in his arms.

His lungs began to burn, his body crying out for the need to breathe. He tried again to rise, fighting the waves with all of his might. Again they seized him and pulled him down, refusing to give up their victims quite so easily.

He fought, battling now with both body and will. But slowly darkness began to take him, his mind freezing as seconds lengthened into minutes, and his body, craving air, began to shut down.

Far above, Erestor stood at the edge of the water, the waves lapping at his feet as he watched the surface of the pool, waiting...


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Please see first chapter.

**A/N:** Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed! My sincerest apologies for not having personally responded, but I have once again found myself severely backlogged (thanks to Poisoned Star reviews). I do intend to eventually do so, but in the meantime, many special thanks go to Oleanne, oceanredwhite, DecoraRae, lackam, and of course **Crookneck**, for whom this story is being written. Also, thank you to all of you who have favorited and alerted, as well as to quaff who added it to his/her community group! THANK YOU all so very much! Okay, confession time...this isn't the last chapter. The story hasn't really chanced at all, just the amount of space/time it took to write it in was/is much more than I was anticipating. And it's supremely late again, so I thought I needed to cut the chapter. So...yeah. I dunno how many chapters there will be. No more than five, I can almost guarantee you that. *ahem* Again, this was quickly written, and very late at night to boot, and without being officially beta'd, so I apologize for any mistakes. They are mine and mine alone. I would positively adore it if you would review, even just to drop off a few words, or just to point out a grammatical error (because I do intend to go through and fix these chapters up when I have time...so any and all slip-ups that you can catch would be appreciated!) Most importantly, though, I hope that you enjoy!

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**Dedication:** For Crookneck. May your day be a little brighter, and your smile more prevalent. *grabs hand* And no slapping, 'kay? 'Cause I'm not apologizing this time ;)

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Chapter 2

Erestor stood at the edge of the pool, water lapping against his bare feet tantalizingly. His eyes were riveted upon the surface of the small lake, his searching gaze desperate for the sight of a head breaking the waves, or a shadow swimming upwards. Anything, any indication…

His internal clock was ticking slowly, until he knew that seconds had dragged out into minutes. And with each passing breath, Erestor knew that the likelihood of Elrond and Arwen's survival decreased significantly.

Erestor fought the nearly overwhelming urge to dive into the water himself. He yearned with all of his being to act, to help; but he knew that any action that he could make in that moment would do nothing but cause further harm – if he attempted to enter the water, Erestor knew that he would meet the same fate that Elrond had, for Elrond was both the better swimmer of the two, as well as the master of the waters that flowed through Imladris. If the water would not allow Elrond to rescue his daughter safely, then they would never do so for him.

But still, Erestor ached to do _something._

It felt like the longest four moments of his life.

Elrond could not move. He was trapped, caught beneath a thousand stones' weight of water, his daughter in his arms. He could not move, could not hope to escape, the weight of his robes dragging him down.

His robes…The answer clicked in his numbed mind, his sluggish thoughts coming together at last.

If he had had the time or the nimbleness of thought, Elrond would have cursed himself and his stupidity in twelve languages. As it was, he only managed three as he frantically tore at the heavy fabric of his lordly robes, not for the first time cursing their impracticality.

The water slowed him, made it all the more difficult for him to tear through the cloth – unfastening the buttons was out of the question, for to do so would require Elrond to release Arwen, and that was something that he refused to even consider – but slowly the cloth gave way.

With one final jerk, the final stitch binding the cloth to his torso tore, and Elrond was able to wriggle free of the constricting garment. It floated away, caught in the eddies of the current, and within seconds was lost to sight.

Elrond gathered all of his remaining strength and pushed off of the bottom, his thoughts and his strength of desperation going out before him.

And this time, the water parted for him. It was not much, merely the slight easement of pressure pushing down against him. But it was enough.

Elrond pushed himself free of the crushing weight waterfall, dragging Arwen with him. For an instant, the current grabbed at his legs and threatened to drag them back down, but Elrond kicked viciously. He shot upward, his gaze now fixed on the water light far above.

He slowed as they drew away from the waterfall, the strange numbness and darkness that had been banished from his thoughts when he finally realized what he had to do to break free of the waterfall beginning to reclaim his mind.

His vision began to darken, the lack of air beginning to exact its toll upon his body. Exhaustion – in both mind and body – began to creep in, and as each second passed, Elrond found it to be more and more difficult to push Arwen and himself upward. He faltered, his vision darkening completely for an instant, before flickering back into focus weakly. Elrond pushed himself harder, the vaguest ticklings of panic brushing his slowing mind.

Cold air slammed into his face as Elrond abruptly broke through the surface of the water. Elrond gasped, his crying body demanding the air that was suddenly all around, and instantly began to cough. It seemed that he had managed to inhale some degree of water.

The spasms did not subside but rather grew in strength, and Elrond slipped suddenly back under the water as his strength gave way. Arwen's dead weight dragged them both down, and for an instant Elrond believed that they were both going to drown, despite the impossible odds that they had only just overcome.

_Typical,_ Elrond thought ironically in some far-distant place in his mind. He pushed upwards, and almost to his surprise, he felt the air against his face once more. But he was tired, oh so very tired, and already he could once again feel himself slipping down into the full embrace of the water's depths, darkness creeping further in at the edges of his vision.

Looking out over the lake, Erestor had frozen when he saw the shadowy shape suddenly appear, quickly followed by a second as the first hauled it up out of the water. Barely more than an instant later, however, they both vanished once again, dragged beneath the surface by some unseen force. They reappeared a few seconds later, Elrond dragging Arwen out of the water once more, only to almost go under once again.

Erestor dove into the water, kicking out toward where Elrond was struggling to hold Arwen's head above the water. For an instant they both went under yet again, and Erestor felt a flash of fear that enabled him to increase his speed.

An instant later, Elrond broke through again, and he hauled Arwen up out of the water, resting her lolling head against his shoulder, his hands clutching spasmodically at the sopping fabric of her dress to keep her in place.

And then Erestor was there, treading water beside them and reaching out to support his lord.

"No," Elrond gasped, and got a mouthful of water for his pains. He coughed, but shook his head. "Arwen, take Arwen," he ordered.

Erestor swam closer and then, as gently as he could, grasped Arwen's limp shoulders. Hooking one of her arms over his shoulders, Erestor carefully pulled Arwen away from her father, until her weight was resting solely with him. Erestor felt himself slip deeper into the water, and he kicked harder, forcing himself back up.

Erestor glanced up, searching for Elrond. He was still there, treading water and looking exhausted. He was deathly pale, and his arms were shaking, making it difficult for him to stay afloat.

"Get her to shore," Elrond coughed, seeing Erestor's worried look. "I will be following right behind you." Not seeing any other option, Erestor complied, all the while carefully ensuring that Arwen's mouth and nose stayed entirely above the waves.

Erestor staggered as his feet abruptly touched the bottom, and he very nearly fell, dropping Arwen in the process. He only just managed to regain his balance, although there was a good deal of splashing and ungraceful lurching.

Erestor hoisted Arwen up into his arms, out of the reach of the water, and carried her up onto the shore, his feet sinking into the soft silt on the lake's bottom. Water streamed off of his hair and clothes, and when he finally stepped out onto the thick grass that carpeted the shore, he left small puddles of the crystal liquid in the wake of each footstep. He paid none of that any heed.

Kneeling, Erestor lay Arwen down upon the grass, well away from the water's edge. Then he glanced up, searching for Elrond.

Elrond was only just finding his footing. He staggered, much as Erestor himself had done, however Elrond crashed down into the water, his weakened legs giving out on him as he bade them to take his weight. He barely managed to catch hold of his breath before the water, once again, was closing in over his head.

Arms grasped Elrond's arms and pulled him upright, just as he felt darkness once again creep up, his weakened body sliding back toward the center of the lake even as he struggled to stand. His head broke the surface, and he automatically took a breath. He choked and coughed, water filling his mouth as it coursed down his face, but there was air nonetheless.

"No, Elrond, you are not allowed to drown now," he heard someone say – someone very familiar. Erestor.

The support vanished, and Elrond felt himself collapsing to the ground, still coughing and retching as his body sought to dispel all of the water from his lungs. Erestor knelt by his side, holding him up and hitting him gently, but firmly on the back.

The fit subsided, and practically before he had finished, Elrond was pulling away from Erestor and crawling toward where Arwen laid, his attention focused solely upon his daughter. When he reached her he knelt shakily, and then reached out to touch two fingers to her neck, and then her lips.

Ice cold fear ran down his spine.

"She's not breathing," Elrond rasped, his throat raw from the large amount of water he had swallowed.

Instinct took control then, pushing away the crippling fear that threatened to overwhelm Elrond's exhausted mind. Opening Arwen's mouth and pinching her nose, he set his lips over hers and breathed into them, forcing his own breath into her body. He sat up and waited, counting slowly. Nothing.

Again Elrond leaned down and breathed for his daughter, Erestor kneeling just behind him, unsure of what to do. Again, when Elrond sat back, nothing happened – nothing changed. He leaned down once more, tears now clinging to his lashes as fearful realization began to sink in.

And then Arwen was coughing, water gushing from her mouth as her lungs heaved. Erestor grabbed her shoulders and rolled her over onto her side so that she would not choke again on the regurgitated water.

Elrond reached down and held her hair out of the way, murmuring comforting words as she retched. She finally collapsed, utterly exhausted and trembling, and Erestor allowed her to roll back onto her back.

Elrond gathered Arwen up into his arms, cradling her head against his chest. She looked up at him, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Ada?" she asked weakly, her voice trembling nearly as much as her body, which was wracked with shivers.

"I am here, Arwen," Elrond whispered. "I am here." He gently smoothed her soaked hair away from her face, and then settled her more firmly in his embrace. She fell silent, relaxing into her father's arms.

Without warning she began to weep, great heaving sobs wracking her body. She clung to her father then, and he rocked her back and forth gently, murmuring softly to her. He stroked her hair, and every so often he would reach down to wipe away her tears. But he did not try to stop them from coming, merely sat there and supported her as she wept, the fear and the adrenaline of the moments before she had lost consciousness bleeding out of her with her tears.

Erestor looked away, not wishing to intrude. But neither did he stand and leave, for Erestor felt that his presence was still needed, and he did not in the least feel comfortable with leaving either of them alone, for both were exhausted and injured.

Instead, Erestor began to think, calculating the amount of time it would take to get back to the House and bring help. Erestor did not know the full extent of either of their injuries, but judging by Elrond's weakness as he had attempted to rise out of the water, he was very weak. Any prolonged time without air did severely weakened and exhausted anyone, whether they were elf or human, and Erestor suspected that Elrond had used more than just his physical strength to rescue Arwen, something that would leave him still further drained. And as for Arwen, she had been beneath the water for even longer than Elrond had, and she had fallen from the top of the falls. More likely than not, she was injured in some way, although Erestor had seen no telltale sign of an injury yet.

Erestor glanced back toward the peredhel, and saw that Arwen's tears had slowed, although she still lay firmly in Elrond's arms. Erestor turned, and carefully began to examine them both, attempting to determine what measures would have to be taken to bring them both back to the House.

Arwen was trembling violently, although from cold or shock, Erestor could not be sure. Her hair was wildly tangled and her dress was in little better shape than tatters, with more skin than was strictly modest showing. A myriad of bruises and small cuts dotted her face, arms, and legs, and the faintest traces of pink on her forehead and trailing down her cheek indicated that her head had been bleeding, although the water had, for the most part, washed it all away.

Elrond was pale and, like Arwen, was trembling violently. He was also heavily bruised, although not so badly as Arwen Erestor noted. Only one injury truly seemed to be of any note, and that was a livid, purple bruise creeping up the side of his jaw and disappearing into his hairline just above his ear.

They both looked exhausted and were breathing raggedly, and Erestor could detect the faintest garble in both of their lungs, likely from the water that they had inhaled that had yet to make its way out of their bodies.

Erestor doubted that either would be able to walk back to the House. No, that was not the case. If the need was dire enough, Erestor knew that Elrond would be able to do so. If he set his mind to do something, Erestor doubted that even a shattered bone would be able to keep his lord from doing it. However, the journey would be extremely difficult, and seeing as how the need was not dire, Erestor decided that Elrond would _not_ be walking back to the House, at least unaided.

That led Erestor back to his initial problem, however – how to get to the House for aid.

Running footsteps announced the arrival of two new people, and Erestor looked up from his inspection of the peredhil. He smiled and rose to greet the newcomers, relief washing through him. Here was the answer to his problem.

"Elladan, Elrohir," he murmured, going to intercept them before they could reach their father and sister.

"We came down as quickly as we could…" Elladan gasped, clearly out of breath. It seemed that they had been sprinting, and hard.

"Yet we feared we would be too late," Elrohir finished, winded as well.

"You were at the top of the falls?" Erestor asked. Elladan and Elrohir nodded in confirmation, and Erestor said no more on the matter.

"Erestor, tell us; Arwen, is she…"

"She is fine, Elladan," Erestor promised, still standing between them and their family, "As is your father."

"Ada?" Elrohir asked, sounding confused. "What is he…?" Elrohir trailed off, comprehension dawning.

"Your father saved Arwen," Erestor confirmed. "I do not know how, but he knew that she was in danger. We arrived just in time to watch her plummet over the edge." Deciding that they both knew enough now not to do anything rash, Erestor stepped aside. "I said that they were well, but they are both extremely exhausted, and mildly injured. Your presence may strengthen them. Go to them," Erestor urged.

The twins needed no further compelling. They hurried to their father and sister and knelt, one on either side.

Elladan quickly grasped his sister's hand, which was lying on her stomach close to her father's right hand, and squeezed it gently. Elrohir, meanwhile, laid one of his hands over his fathers', and then mirrored his twin as he tightened his hold.

Elrond looked up and, seeing his sons, smiled slightly for the first time since the afternoon had begun. "My sons," he murmured. Elladan and Elrohir were shocked to hear how exhausted he looked and sounded, his voice thin and quavering. They shared a look – one filled with worry – and then looked back to their father.

"How do you fare?" Elladan asked, looking intently at his father. Elrond smiled again, although this time it was something more akin to a grimace.

"I am fine," Elrond replied, and glanced down at Arwen.

"And you, little sister?" Elrohir asked, his voice carrying just the barest hint of teasing that carefully covered his worry.

Arwen's eyes flickered, and she looked up slowly. When her gaze came to rest on her brothers kneeling beside her, both of them looking down on her, she seemed to start, surprise echoing in her eyes. An instant later she winced, and then closed her eyes tightly.

"My head hurts Ada," she whispered. And then she went limp.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters herein are property of the Tolkien Estate. Cuilnoth is mine. No profit was made from the writing of this.

**A/N:** This is a short chapter, I know, and I'm sorry. I've just been extremely discouraged and uninspired this last week. I'm not really sure if it's writer's block or what...but whatever it was has been rendering me unable to write painlessly. This chapter was actually very difficult for me to write...and it really should not have been. *sigh* And I'm not entirely pleased with how it came out anyway. Ugh. Again, thank you all so very, very much for reviewing and favoriting and the like. Personal replies are still on their way...in fact, they are the next ones I am doing.

Oh, and I have a LiveJournal now. It's pretty much dedicated for you all and my fanfiction writing. I plan on posting updates there, as well as sneak peeks, and snippets from oneshots I'm working on...stuff like that. If anyone's interested, here's the link: serenlyall. live-journal .com  
Just take out the spaces and the hyphen :)

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**Dedication: **For Crookneck. I hope you had a better week...and hopefully it was better than mine. Hopefully we'll be able to recommence our long talks soon too :) Until then, though...Here's another chapter for you.

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Chapter 3

Elrond felt as his daughter went limp, her muscles slackening as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and consciousness fled her body. Her head lolled back against his shoulder and her back melting into the curve of his chest, left hand – the one not held by Elladan – sliding off of her chest and to the ground. For a long second Elrond did not move, frozen in place by new fear that had suddenly sprung to life like a candle flame, and like fire had, within seconds, devoured all rational thought.

"Ada?" Elladan's voice was fearful as well, and he turned wide, silver eyes upon his father who sat motionless.

His son's voice shook Elrond from his paralysis and he looked up sharply, his mind kicking back into action, albeit sluggishly.

"Help me lay her out," Elrond ordered. "But be cautious," he added hurriedly as the twins slid their arms beneath their sister's back. "Do not jostle her unduly, and brace her spine as best as you can."

They nodded, and then as one they carefully slid Arwen out of their father's arms to lay her down upon the grassy slope. Elrond braced his hands beneath Arwen's head and on her neck, immobilizing both as best as he could.

She had said that her head was hurting which was not a good sign, and that she had lost consciousness portended something significantly wrong. She had likely struck her head, either upon the bottom of the pool, or at some point during her fall. At the least, that would likely mean that she was suffering from a concussion. Elrond did not allow himself to dwell upon the worst that it could mean for her.

When she had been situated, Elrond knelt by Arwen's head and placed both of his hands at her temple, closing his eyes. He breathed in deeply, conscientiously clearing his mind of thought and fear, and giving himself over to the constant rush of air all about and the steady lapping of the waves upon the shore. Then that too faded away as Elrond shifted his focus to the life beneath him, feeling the pulse of her heart, the pump of blood through her veins, the whoosh of air in her lungs.

With slow, careful movements, Elrond began to run his hands down the side of her face, along her jaw, and then down to her neck. His fingers probed gently, feeling the bones of her spine, and then the base of her skull. His fingers worked into her hair, and he carefully worked his way around the curve of her skull.

Elladan, Elrohir, and Erestor watched Elrond work without a sound, all three of them hardly even daring to breathe. The seconds stretched on, until it felt as if it had been a near eternity; yet each of them knew it only to have been a moment at the most.

Finally, Elrond's eyes fluttered, and then they opened. He released a deep breath, and then looked up, worry plainly visible.

"Her skull is fractured, and she is bleeding in her head," Elrond said bluntly, voice tense and, Erestor noted, filled with guilt and anger, although both were directed toward himself. Glancing at the twins, Erestor doubted that they had heard either undercurrent, something that Erestor was thankful for – father he may be to them, but Erestor had known Elrond for far longer than either of the twins had.

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other for an instant, as if not knowing what to do or say. Then they looked down at their sister, and then back up at their father. Finally Elladan spoke, voicing what all of them were thinking, but were too afraid to ask.

"Is she going to survive?" he asked tremulously.

Elrond's attention was already fixed back down upon his daughter, his hands braced on either side of her head. He glanced up, his lips tightened in a thin, white line.

"I do not know," he said quietly, barely audibly, "And even if she does, there is a chance that she will suffer lasting effects from the head trauma. I need to get her back to the House as soon as possible, but I fear to move her. Without the proper support, I fear the move will prove to be enough to kill her."

"What if we could carry her back on a stretcher?" Erestor asked. "Would that provide enough support?"

Elrond nodded, although his attention was no longer on either his sons or his councilor. "It might," he whispered, eyes closed.

"I will go," Elrohir announced, but Erestor grabbed his elbow before he could leave, halting him. Elrohir whirled, his eyes blazing as his fear gave way to fury.

"Release me," he snarled, and Erestor very nearly obeyed, so taken aback was he by the sheer power and vehemence in the younger twin's words. But Erestor had spent far too long as Elrond's High Councilor to be cowed, and he kept his hold.

"Elrohir, wait," Erestor cut in, silencing the younger elf's protests. "You must stay here," he hissed, and then looked at Elladan, including him in what he was saying, "Both of you. Your father is exhausted and very weak. I fear that he will try to give too much to Arwen, and that he will not be strong enough to continue on. He will need you, and your strength, before the end. _Both_ of you," he emphasized.

"But then-"

"I will go," Erestor said, knowing exactly what Elladan was trying to ask. "Just hold on until I can return. I will be back soon," he promised.

"But-"

But Erestor was already gone, feet flying as he sprinted up the shallow incline to the trees that stood between him and the House. Within seconds he had crossed into the shadows beneath the canopy, nimbly darting between trunks and around thickly blossoming shrubs.

If he had thought that he had been running fast whilst chasing after Elrond, he had been laughably mistaken. He had thought that he had been running as fast as his legs could carry him then. But it was nothing compared to the speed that he pushed himself to now as he shoved his way through the thin brush, unheeding of the branches that he snapped, or the small holes torn in the cloth of his garments.

Erestor burst from the trees, and for a second he had a flash of panic as he realized he did not know where to go to find help. Then the logical portion of his mind, which had temporarily taken flight it seemed, regained control of his thoughts, and directed his steps up toward the House, and the quickest way to the Healer's Wing.

Erestor shoved his way through the door and into the hallway. He slowed for just an instant, his vision momentarily going dark as he entered shadowy indoors from the brilliantly lit mid-afternoon sunlight. And then he was moving again, trusting to his instinct and familiarity with the house to keep him from running into any doors.

"Move!" Erestor bellowed as he tore out of the side corridor and out into the main hallway. "Get out of the way!" Startled elves quickly got out of the counselor's way, hugging the walls and pulling their companions with them.

Through the Entrance Hall, down into the East Wing, and then out a side door, across the narrow gardens – taking a smooth, relatively straight path this time – and then up three short, broad steps. By the time Erestor slid to a halt outside the door leading from the Main House to Healing Wing, he was breathing heavily. He pulled the heavy door open forcefully and crossed the threshold, welcoming the gentle coolness of the healing halls.

Cuilnoth looked up at Erestor's abrupt entrance, a folder nestled in the crook of her arm and a puzzled look on her face.

"Lord Erestor?" she asked, sounding surprised to recognize one of Imladris's three lords come tearing into her domain looking so frantic. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Tis Arwen," Erestor said quickly, fighting to keep his breathing steady. Cuilnoth's brows drew together in a frown, and her questioning stare urged Erestor to expound. "She fell from the top of one of the falls. Elrond says that her skull is fractured, and that she is bleeding within her head."

"Lord Elrond is with her?" Cuilnoth asked, now both worried and perplexed. "Why does he then need me?"

Erestor shook his head. "He says that she cannot be moved without support. He calls for a stretcher."

By the time that the last word had left Erestor's tongue, Cuilnoth was already moving. Her papers lay forgotten on a table a few feet down the corridor as she ran back toward the offices where the healers worked while not tending to a patient, shouting orders.

"Aelbreg, Caranur, prepare a stretcher. Sarnuial, I need you to prepare a room for immediate surgery upon our return…" The remainder of her orders was lost to Erestor as she disappeared into an adjacent room, the walls muffling her voice.

Erestor fidgeted in the hallway, feeling utterly useless as the halls leapt into action and he was left waiting. The healers would need him to guide them back to Elrond and Arwen and so he stayed where he was at, yet this inaction, this stillness, ate at him. Those two minutes in which he stood there, looking lost just inside the door to the Healing Wing, were two of the longest of the afternoon, alongside those during which he had waited for Elrond and Arwen to resurface.

Finally Cuilnoth reappeared, a satchel slung over one shoulder, and leading two other healers – Aelbreg and Caranur, Erestor noted – who were carrying the stretcher between them.

"Erestor, you can lead us to them?" Cuilnoth asked as they neared. Erestor nodded curtly, and then spun on his heel, pushing open the door once more and leading the three healers outside.

The journey back to the waterfall took nearly twice as long as the one to the healer's. They elected to cut around the side of the House and back through the gardens, rather than take the path through the House's halls, which would undoubtedly garner unwanted attention, fear, and questions which they did not have the time to answer. The stretcher too slowed them down, for it was awkward to carry, and not conducive to full-fledged running.

Erestor could only pray that they would not arrive too late.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Lord of the Rings, nor nothing thus related, belongs to me. Cólalph, Cuilnoth, Caillaer, and the other OCs named in this chapter do belong to me, although they are free to be used (as long as you speak with me first. Because occasionally I have ideas/threads/arcs for them that I would wish you to adhere to if you did incorporate them). No profit was made from the writing of this tale.

**A/N:** My sincerest apologies for having taken so long to update this. All of my WIP this last month were kind of...put on hold, if you will. I don't have much of an excuse other than writer's block, and school... If anyone's interested, I think that there will be two more chapters after this, although I have no idea about word length. This chapter ended up being much more typical "Seren" chapter length, totaling in at about 4,500 words, rather than the not-quite-3,000 that the previous three chapters have been. Hopefully this longer chapter can help to make the long wait worthwhile. Also, I realize that this chapter is rather OC-saturated, and for that I apologize (although not so much that I feel like I _need _to change it. It has its purpose). Originally, it was supposed to center entirely on one of our beloved canon characters, but that really wasn't working out, so I had to change the perspective. Brownie points to anyone who can say what else I've written in which I named Cólalph. :)

For those of you who have favorited/alerted, thank you oh so very much! It really makes me very glad to see/hear that people are reading and enjoying! For those of you who have reviewed, extra huge thanks! My apologies if I have not replied personally to your review. I am very, _very _behind on review responses. I shall try my hardest to get to you, however I apologize in advance if you never get one for previous reviews. Please know that I love you for taking the time to leave a few words, and that I greatly, immensely appreciate you taking the time to do so. In fact, I would love it if you would take the time to review this chapter as well! As for all of you lurkers...well, my thanks for reading, and I hope that you will take the few seconds it takes to leave a review, even if it's just a simple "I liked it!" Most importantly, though, enjoy!

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**Dedication:** For beloved Crookneck, who once again has not been having such a wonderful week. I really wish that I could have gotten this to you earlier, my friend. *sigh* But hey, this is the beginning of a brand new week. We can hope that it turns out better than the last (for the both of us), no?

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Chapter 4

The day had begun peacefully enough. Cólalph had awoken just as the sun passed its zenith, and had simply lain beneath the blankets for a long moment, content to listen to the melody of summer – a faint breeze brushing through the trees and rustling the leaves, birds singing raucously, their differing songs clashing and harmonizing as they intertwined, and the waterfalls drumming in the distance. When he had at last arisen, he had felt refreshed, despite that he had come to his room to sleep only after watching the sun lift above the walls of the valley in a beautiful conflagration of gold and orange and dusky scarlet.

With no pressing duties to attend to, Cólalph dressed leisurely, and then slipped from his rooms and down the staircase to the second level. As usual, the second floor – which housed the offices of those of importance (such as the high councilors, the captains, the head housekeeper, the grounds warden, and, of course, Lords Elrond, Glorfindel, and Erestor) as well as a number of meeting and council rooms, archives, and the Great Library – was hushed, and an air of busied calm hung in the corridor.

Cólalph quickly descended the side staircase that stood just beyond the one he had just come down. There was no need for him to walk all of the way to the main staircase, especially when the side stairs would lead him directly to the kitchens, which just so happened to be his destination.

The main floor, unlike the one above was filled with activity. Even so, it was a peaceful sort of activity, with everyone knowing what they were doing, and none hurrying about simply for the sake of rushing. If one listened, he could hear the footsteps of scribes and scholars, musicians, guards, and even guests as they criss-crossed the wide hallways, often the soft murmur of voices accompanying the tread. The faint sounds of pots and pans being handled, of knives slicing and dicing, and of large fires crackling in hearths was just audible through the walls that separated the kitchens from the rest of the house, and they grew louder as one neared the open doorways.

Cólalph slipped into the kitchens through a side door, and for a long moment he merely stood by the wall, watching the kitchen staff as they bustled about, preparations for the evening meal already beginning. Dough was being kneaded, vegetables scrubbed clean, and tender venison was being laid out pans of sauce, and Cólalph thought that he could just make out two ellyth cutting strawberries and putting the pieces into a large bowl filled with sugared water.

Cólalph's stomach twinged, reminding him why it was he had come down. He glanced around, searching for the familiar splash of white-blonde hair amongst a sea of black. A moment later he found her, bending over a hunk of bread dough that she was carefully crafting into thin rolls. Cólalph left the safety of the doorway, and threaded his way through the kitchens, nimbly dodging out of the way of the staff as they worked. Few paid him any heed, so accustomed were they to seeing him, and those few who did notice nodded or smiled in silent greeting, gestures which he returned gladly.

As Cólalph neared the place where the blonde-haired elleth was working, he caught a good glimpse of what it was that she was doing. A shallow dish was sitting at her elbow, and around the lip of the pan, an intricate weave of small, circular pieces of pie crust was beginning to take shape.

The elleth turned abruptly, hearing a loud bang emanate from across the kitchen as a pan fell to the floor. Cólalph, realizing what was about to happen the instant before it did, jumped forward just as her elbow caught the lip of the pan and sent it skittering over the edge of the counter.

Cólalph caught the pie dish in one hand, just barely managing to save it from shattering on the hard ground. The elleth turned, trying to catch the dish herself, and then gasped in surprise as Cólalph appeared suddenly beside her. But then she laughed as she saw Cólalph holding the dish and looking both a little surprised and flustered at what he had just done.

Cólalph stood, pie dish in hand, and then placed it safely back on the countertop. "You should be more careful, Caillaer," he remarked, but there was no bite to his words, and when he turned to look at her, there was a gentle smile on his face.

Caillaer smiled in return, and then moved the pan farther away from the edge. "Yes, I know," she said lightly. "My thanks, Cólalph," she added, turning to face him once more. "Without you, there would be one less pie for dinner tonight." Cólalph inclined his head, although he did not say anything more on the matter.

"Not that I do not like your company, my friend, but why are you down here?" Caillaer asked, turning her attention back to the dough she was working, "other than, of course, to save the pie." Her fingers nimbly returned to work, pulling off a small section of dough to begin rolling it between her palms.

Cólalph leaned against the counter. "The same reason as every other day," he admitted.

"You do know that there is still food in the Dining Hall, do you not?" Caillaer asked.

Cólalph shrugged. "Yes," he replied simply.

"Then why do you never get your lunch from there?"

"You know why," Cólalph said. "There are far too many people there."

"There are more in the kitchens than in the Dining Hall at this time of day."

"Ah, but those in the kitchens do not try to drag me into a conversation, do they?"

Caillaer laughed. "Very well, you win again. But one of these days, I _shall_ convince you to eat in the Dining Hall."

"I do eat in the Dining Hall," Cólalph protested. "I eat there at least once a week, and for every high day, feast, and festival." Caillaer only laughed again as she wiped her floury hands on her apron.

"Come along then," she bade, playfully butting his shoulder with her own, turning away from the counter. A grin was tugging at the corners of her mouth. "There should be some fresh bread just out of the oven."

She lead Cólalph through the kitchen to the opposite wall, where the ovens were located. There were at least a dozen, their fiery mouths gleaming and radiating heat as they baked the various breads and pastries resting on the racks within. A long trestle table stood a few paces in front of the ovens, and atop the wooden surface was arrayed a number of cooling pans and trays. Nearly a dozen kinds of bread were there, from sourdough to buttermilk, from rolled crust to thin, and from cheese-filled to cinnamon topped. Cólalph's stomach grumbled again.

"Here," Caillaer said, picking up a bread knife and cutting off a thick portion of one of the plain loaves. "Go get yourself some cheese to spread on it if you like, and I am sure Idhremith would give you some cold chicken if you asked."

"I thank you," Cólalph said, taking the bread from Caillaer and bowing slightly. "You are a good friend, Caillaer."

"I know," Caillaer replied cheekily. "And now I must return to work. See that you do not get into any trouble," Caillaer said with mock sternness. Then she turned on her heel and retraced her steps back to the pie she was making.

Juggling the steaming bread from hand to hand so as to keep it from burning him, Cólalph hurried to the table by the cellar door that held an assortment of cheeses. Every night the cheeses were returned the cool cellar, where they would keep without spoiling, but during the day there was usually at least one kind sitting on the small, squat table, waiting for someone to cut off a piece to eat or to be used in some hasty dish.

Bread and cheese in hand, Cólalph settled himself down at the table in an alcove beside the main hearth to eat. He spread the cheese over the bread, and then let it sit for a long moment, allowing the cheese to melt and seep into the soft, fluffy bread before eating. While he waited, he watched the kitchen staff hurrying about like a colony of ants or a hive of bees.

Just as he was taking a large bite, Cólalph heard a commotion outside. Someone shouted, and then there was a flurry of pounding steps as someone sprinted past, pushing anyone who had not moved aside and out of their way fast enough. Oddly enough, it sounded and looked like Lord Erestor, at least from the brief glance Cólalph had gotten of the person. Cólalph frowned, wondering what was happening.

Everyone else in the kitchens seemed to be wondering the same thing, for the silence that had fallen after the initial shout collapsed, and hushed, hurried conversation sprung up all around like a multitude of little brush fires.

"I wonder if it has anything to do with Lord Elrond and Lord Erestor running through the halls earlier." The speaker was a rather short elleth, her dark hair twisted up on top of her head in a braided bun so as to keep it out of her way. A small, thin-bladed knife used to cut fresh fruit was in one hand, and she held a peach in the other.

"What do you mean Ereboth?" someone else asked.

"Well, when Miluinel and I were coming in from the gardens, Lord Elrond very nearly ran into us as he ran out of the door. Lord Erestor was but a few seconds behind, and after asking us which way Lord Elrond had gone, he ran after him," Ereboth explained. "I thought it odd before, but now…"

"Do you think the Valley is in danger?" someone wondered aloud, and there was an uneasy murmuring.

"I doubt that we have anything to fear," someone else retorted, and Cólalph was fairly certain that it was Idhremith, the head cook. An instant later he caught sight of her stepping among the cluster of cooks and household staff that had gathered in a knot a few paces away from the table Cólalph was sitting at. "If Lord Elrond knows of what is happening – whatever that may be – then I am confident that all will be well."

"You have much faith in our lord," a gardener commented.

"Of course I do," Idhremith replied calmly. "Don't you?"

"Of course I do," the gardener retorted, and he sounded almost affronted. "I would trust Lord Elrond with my life. It is only..."

Having heard all that he wished to, Cólalph rose, the heel of the bread in hand. He put the last morsel of food into his mouth, then quietly slipped around the group and out of the nearest door.

He was in the main hallway, across from the Dining Hall. Shrugging mentally, Cólalph started down the wide corridor, heading for the main staircase. He needed to stop by Celondirith's study in any case, so he might as well take the longer route to the main stairs – which were much nearer to the high councilor's study – rather than walk to the side stairs, all of the way across the second floor, and then back again.

There were small knots of people standing around in the corridor, all of them speaking in hurried whispers or low voices. Every now and again, Cólalph was able to catch a snatch of what was being said, although for the most part he ignored those around him. All were speaking of the same thing – the reason behind Lord Erestor's unusual behavior.

"Cólalph!" Cólalph paused, turning to look for who had called out to him. He found Lady Celebrían hurrying toward him, a puzzled look on her face.

"My lady," Cólalph said with a low bow. "How may I help you?"

"Do you know what all of this commotion is about?" Lady Celebrían asked, motioning around her at the people who were clumped together, or who were walking briskly down the sides of the corridors, tense or worried expressions on their faces.

Cólalph hesitated. "Not really, my lady," he replied. "Lord Erestor came running through the halls not five minutes ago, but otherwise I know little of what is happening." The lady frowned, and Cólalph thought that he could sense an air of worry in her gaze. His heart clenched at the sight of her distress, as minimal as it may be, and he knew then that he needed to tell her all. "I overheard one of the kitchen staff – Ereboth – speaking of it," he said after a few seconds of silence. Lady Celebrían looked up, urging him to go on. "She told of how she and a friend saw Lord Erestor running through the halls earlier. He was following Lord Elrond."

Lady Celebrían went suddenly very white, her eyes widening. She shook her head, as if to clear it, and then she faltered. Cólalph reached out instinctively, steadying her as she wavered, then gripping her shoulders and looking into her eyes with concern.

"My lady? My lady, are you well?" he asked, his soft voice surprisingly strong as he sought to catch her attention – he was not one to raise his voice above that of a gentle murmur, even during the most stressful of times. Lady Celebrían started, as if coming back to herself, and she looked up at the dancer.

"I am well," Lady Celebrían replied, although her voice was quiet and hesitant, as if her thoughts were far elsewhere. "Please, I am sorry Cólalph. I must go…" she pulled away, and Cólalph let her do so, his hands falling to his sides as she began to walk down the hall. He turned to watch her go, and just caught a glimpse of the look on her face. She was pale and her eyes were wide, the faintest trace of something hidden in the ice blue orbs. It took a moment for Cólalph to understand what he had seen, but when he did, he felt momentarily sick – it had been fear.

Cólalph glanced up the stairs, then back to where the lady of the valley was quickening her steps, her back rigid and her hands held tightly at her sides. He hesitated for just an instant, indecision warring in his heart, and then he was turning and hurrying after his lady. Just for a moment, he would forget propriety, would forget his other duties, and would forget his own dislike of people and large crowds. Lady Celebrían would need someone, of that Cólalph was certain although he did not know how, and he had the feeling that none of her family would be able to provide the support she would need. And at the moment, he was the only one present that could help.

"My lady, wait," Cólalph called out, hurrying to catch up to her. "Where are you going?" Lady Celebrían simply kept walking. "My lady…"

"I must find my husband," Celebrían said. "I must…" She trailed off.

"I shall help you," Cólalph promised. The lady looked up at him.

"You will?"

Cólalph bowed. "Of course, my lady. I know what direction Lord Erestor went," he added. Lady Celebrían nodded.

"Please, show me," she asked.

Cólalph took the lead, directing her down the corridor past the kitchens. He hesitated at the door at the end of the hall, glancing up and down the side corridor that lead to the Guest Wing, and then pushed out into the gardens. He did not know for sure that such was the proper direction, but he knew that Ereboth and her friend Miluinel had met Lord Elrond, they had been coming in from the gardens. Thus, it stood to reason that they were somewhere outside…

The afternoon sun was bright and the kitchen gardens were alight with life and the color of healthy growth. Greens and browns gleamed richly all about, and the sweet scent of blooming flowers and ripening fruit was thick upon the air, borne upon the light wind that swirled agitatedly through the gardens.

Together, the two Elves skirted the garden beds, keeping to the walkways cut in between. The cool, hard-packed earth felt good beneath Cólalph's bare feet, and for just a moment he allowed himself to enjoy the feel of dirt between his toes, the sun on his face, and the gentle breeze tugging at his hair.

But then his attention was brought crashing back to reality when he heard the lady walking beside him gasp, and then grab his arm.

"What is that?" Lady Celebrían asked tightly. Cólalph followed the lady's gaze, and in the distance, just appearing from between the trees, he caught a flash of movement and a blurred shadow. Then the shadow stepped into the light, and it resolved into three figures stepping from the darkness beneath the trees, two of which were carrying something between them. "Who is that?" Lady Celebrían whispered, voice strained.

"No." The single word was strangled, and Cólalph could hear her breath hitch as she struggled to draw breath.

"My lady?" He turned, worry now clashing alarmingly with the sudden surge of worry that had swept over him. The words were barely out of his mouth, his body only half-way turned, when she saw her move. He reached out to stop her, to grab a hold of her, but she slid past him like an eel through water, the fringe of her trailing sleeve only barely brushing against his fingertips.

Cólalph sprang after her. He did not know why it was that she was running, but he felt that, if it was good enough a reason for her to do so, then it was good enough a reason for him as well. More than that, however, he felt as if the moment in which his presence would be needed was not yet come, but that it was drawing closer. And so he pushed himself faster, feet flying across the furrowed earth of the gardens and ignoring the feel of leaves as they were crushed beneath his heel.

As they drew closer, the figures began to resolve into forms that Cólalph could decipher. The one who was not carrying anything, Cólalph recognized suddenly as one of the master healers – Cuilnoth, he believed her name was – and as they drew closer, he thought that he was able to recognize the faces of the two carrying the object, although he did not know their names.

It was only when they were little more than a hundred paces distant, however, when he was finally able to make out what it was that the two were carrying. It was a stretcher, and there was someone lying on the stretcher, although who it was Cólalph could not make out. He could only see long dark hair and a single hand draping off of the edge.

Cuilnoth looked up, and her piercing grey eyes swept from Lady Celebrían to Cólalph, then back to the lady. She moved quickly, maneuvering her body so that it was between the two Elves approaching and the stretcher. She looked worried, Cólalph thought absentmindedly, even as he pushed himself just a little faster as he tried in vain to reach Lady Celebrían.

Cólalph watched as Cuilnoth reached out and halted Lady Celebrían, continuing to keep her body between the lady and the stretcher. Cólalph could not hear what was said, but he could see Lady Celebrían stiffen, and could hear her distressed cry

"There is naught that you can do, my lady," Cuilnoth was saying as Cólalph slid to a halt a few steps behind Lady Celebrían. "You must stay here and wait for the others – they should be along soon. I swear to you that we will do all that we can for your daughter, but for now you must trust us with her care," she urged, and laid a hand on Lady Celebrían's arm. Lady Celebrían did not respond, merely stood there completely still, back rigid and head high.

With that, Cuilnoth turned and ran, her long legs easily carrying her to the stretcher, which had been carried on away while she had spoken with Lady Celebrían. There, just as she reached the stretcher, Cólalph's eyes having been following her, he caught a glimpse of the figure lying there, and he felt his blood run cold, the healer's words at last sinking in.

_Arwen. No, no it could not be. Not her. Please, anyone but her, _his heart cried, and for an instant he felt as if all of the air had been sucked from his lungs, as if his chest was being clenched with a giant's hand.

Cólalph turned just in time to barely catch Lady Celebrían as she abruptly sank to the ground, her legs seeming to have suddenly given way. Cólalph grasped her shoulders, helping her to sit slowly, and then he crouched beside her

"Arwen," Lady Celebrían murmured, sounding shocked. "My daughter…no, this cannot be." Wide blue eyes snapped up to meet Cólalph's, and in their depths Cólalph could read both fear and denial. He found he did not know how to respond, nor even how to fully fathom what it was he was seeing and she was feeling. He felt trapped within her gaze, and for an instant it felt as if he were drowning. But then Celebrían blinked, and he was released from the odd sensation. "I must go," she said quietly, and then made to rise.

Cólalph reached out and grasped her wrist, halting her before pulling her back to the earth. "Go where, my lady?" he asked. "Surely you do not mean go after Lady Arwen and the healers?"

"Where else would I go?" Lady Celebrían asked sharply, and once more she began to stand. This time Cólalph could not stop her, and instead he stood alongside her, never once releasing his hold on her wrist.

"Wait, my lady, think this through," he plead. "Did I not hear Cuilnoth ask you to stay here? She promised that they would do all that they could for Lady Arwen," he reminded her gently. He did not know if what he was doing was right or justified, this attempt to keep her there, and he knew beyond a doubt that it was improper for him to be addressing his lady in such a way. But even so, for once in his life he did not back down, and instead he stood his ground.

"But she is my daughter!" Lady Celebrían exclaimed, and Cólalph could see that she was beginning to become frantic once again.

"My lady, please," Cólalph begged. "The only way for you to be of any help is if you remain calm."

Lady Celebrían did not seem to hear his words, for they had barely left his mouth when she stepped forward and attempted to brush him aside. To her surprise, he did not budge.

"Move out of my way," Lady Celebrían hissed, and Cólalph was taken aback by the venom in her voice. But then his resolve hardened, and he stood his ground, although he swallowed thickly. "I ordered you to move," Lady Celebrían said coldly, and this time with much more authority. Once again, she attempted to push past, and this time Cólalph was not able to stop her, despite his attempt to sidestep in front of her.

"Mother?"

Lady Celebrían turned faster than Cólalph would have thought possible, her entire attention instantaneously focusing solely upon the dark-haired Elf hurrying forward, albeit hurrying rather slowly and with a slight limp. Cólalph bowed to the newcomer, although he was not sure that the he had seen him, for he seemed to intent on his mother.

"Elladan, my son," Lady Celebrían smiled, and the relief was evident in her voice. "You are well, thank Elbereth," she said, and then stepped forward to pull him into a tight embrace. Lord Elladan's arms encircled his mother, and for a long moment he merely stood there, hugging her tightly. At last he pulled back and looked down into his mother's eyes.

"You wish to know what has happened, do you not?" Lord Elladan asked somewhat reluctantly, reading something in her face.

"Of course," Lady Celebrían replied. "However, tales and explanations can wait. Tell me, are you or your brother injured?"

Lord Elladan smiled thinly and shook his head. "Nay, mother, Elrohir and I are fine, if a little tired. I am more worried for father," he admitted.

Lady Celebrían's gaze sharpened. "Why? Tell me," she bade when Lord Elladan hesitated fractionally.

Lord Elladan shook his head with a sight. "He is utterly exhausted. I do not know all what he did, but he rescued Arwen, and then he gave her almost all of his strength. I do not remember ever seeing him so drained – he can barely even stand, and I doubt that he can walk without aid for more than a few paces."

Lady Celebrían shook her head slightly, although whether from exasperation or something else, Cólalph had no idea. "Where is he?" Lady Celebrían queried.

"He should be coming," Lord Elladan said, and then glanced over his shoulder. "El and Erestor were with him…" Lord Elladan trailed off, a frown flitting across his face. "I would have thought they would be here – or at least close enough to see – by now."

"I will find them," Lady Celebrían said, squeezing her son's hand, and then departing, heading toward the trees where the party bearing the stretcher had exited from.

Cólalph turned to leave, not seeing any further reason to stay – Lady Celebrían was safely with her family, and she would no longer need his support – when Lord Elladan called out his name. He looked over his shoulder, then retraced his steps when he saw that Lord Elladan was beckoning to him.

Cólalph bowed. "Yes my lord?" he asked, straightening. To his surprise, Lord Elladan reached out to rest his hand on his shoulder in a gesture of gratitude and brotherhood.

"My thanks to you for staying with my mother. I do not know what transpired between her and the healers, and I doubt that she would have done anything foolish, however I fear that her own anxiety would have overcome her common sense. I know that, had I come upon Arwen lying unconscious on a stretcher, I would…" he trailed off, and then cleared his throat. "Just…I thank you, as I am sure my brother and father would – and will – as well."

Cólalph bowed, and he could feel as slight flush creeping up his cheeks at such praise. "Thank you, my lord. To be honest, I did not know if what I was doing was right or wrong. I simply thought that I had to have done something."

"You did right," Lord Elladan assured him, and squeezed the dancer's shoulder. "I have one more favor of you, if you would," he added hurriedly after a few seconds of silence, as if he had come to a conclusion of some sort.

"Of course my lord," Cólalph replied promptly. "Anything that you ask."

"Come with me, and help my father?" Lord Elladan asked. "I fear he will be unable continue on much longer, and while I do not doubt my mother's strength or willpower, it would be good if there was another to help carry him should he collapse. Would you do that?"

Cólalph was startled. "Of course my lord," he said. "I would be honored."

"Then you have my mine and my family's thanks yet again," Lord Elladan said. "We will not forget what you have done for us this day, Cólalph." And with that, Lord Elladan turned toward the trees, beckoning for Cólalph to follow.

Cólalph trailed after Lord Elladan, and together they stepped into the comforting darkness cast by the tree canopy.

* * *

**A/N II:** Okay, so just for you guys' knowledge, I actually have maps that I am working off of when I'm speaking of the layouts of the house, etc. (Although the ones that I was using for the first three chapters are slightly different than those I am using now. They underwent some re-draws) They are maps created by me (although I took a lot of information from the books (well, not a lot, because quite frankly there's not much concerning the layout of Imladris in the books), the movies, and various concept art that I have been able to get my hands on. If anyone is interested in seeing the maps I have drawn out, I would be willing to put them up online and provide links. Just let me know!


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